Golden Child
by devilishlysas
Summary: Post events of Brave New World Set in the near future. Claire has become famous and infamous after exposing her ability and so the rest of the 'specials' to the world, and Sylar reveals to her some unpleasant truth's. PG-13 but later chapters rated M.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **The Golden Child

**Author: **devilishlysas

**Rating: **PG-13/NC-17 (depending on the Chapter)

**Spoilers: **All seasons up to Brave New World finale

**Summary: **Set in the near and distant future; post events of Brave New World. Claire has become famous and infamous after exposing her ability and so the rest of the 'specials' to the world.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Heroes or its characters (and just knowing that makes me cry inside) :P

**Word count**: lots knowing me (ongoing)

**Chapter 1: Infamous Part 1**

The tunnel seemed longer every night she mused, trying to keep the megawatt smile fixed onto her face, it's only what they expected after all... her fans. Everyone seemed to have emerged from the woodwork, just to congratulate her on another great, 'no amazing' night, or so they kept telling her; anything so that she had to acknowledge them, smile and glance their way. Satiate their need to touch her, as though that would somehow make her more tangible, more real, it's was a familiar trend and one she feared she'd never grow accustomed to, something she couldn't let herself.

One hurried foot in front of the other, not quite running but wishing like hell that she could Claire made it to her dressing room, one frantic look to the security guy standing there and attempting to look inconspicuous surrounded by flowers and pink and he'd hurriedly ushered the small crowd out of her way. Locking the door with a small sigh of relief she dropped her forehead against it and simply stood that way, breathing in and out... sanctuary, for a few moments at least.

"Doesn't get any easier I see." The voice is as a familiar and almost comforting as it is haunting.

Not daring to turn around and face the ghostly apparition, she closed her eyes and used the door to keep her upright for a few moments longer.

"Being adored like this... revered, worshiped and held to such dizzying heights." There was a bite to his words and Claire felt her whole body tremble. If he was here now, it could only mean one thing and she couldn't face that, wouldn't.

"Not that I can imagine what that feels like..." he continued as though his words hadn't left a gaping hole in her chest already. "Not that any other freak like us could. No, the rest of us aren't as _special _as Claire-fucking-Bennet."

Her fists curled as anger and agony ripped at her, slowly, hatefully she turned to face him, knowing even as she did it, that he was the only one that could have said this to her, the only one who'd dare... the only one who'd even talk to her at all... Sylar.

Her argument died on her tongue as she watched amusement and rage dance across his face, his whole visage slumped and coiled, waiting to strike.

"Peter ?" she asked quietly, knowing better than to speak his name but needing to confirm it anyway.

Sylar sprung to his feet, slamming into her and wrapping a hand around her throat, her feet left the floor and she kept her eyes fixed on his face, seeing the monster shining back and knowing absolutely that Peter was gone... and the monster was loose again in his soul.

It was strange, Peter's death wasn't what effected her, not really, it had been a long time since she'd seen her Uncle, longer still since she'd spoken to him... or rather since he'd spoken to her. All of her family had turned on her, frozen her out and cut her off. Even her mother had found it too much of a strain to remain a part of her life, what with the media hounding her whenever she so much as poked a head out of the house. A very public creation of an apparent rift between them and her continued distance was the only thing that kept the wolves from her mother's door now.

"You still smell the same." Sylar murmured, his grip not loosening an inch as he buried his head in her hair, inhaling and crushing his body closer than he'd ever dared to hers. Briefly Claire's eyes flickered to the camera's that dotted her room, never unmanned.

"Disabled." He muttered, not even breaking his stride as he nuzzled her ear, his breath coming just a shade too fast. "Can you believe it," he laughed, "I actually have you all to myself... until someone knocks of course, which with you will probably be in mere moments. Never alone are you Cheerleader." Claire searched his eyes as he drew his head back around to stare balefully at her, rage simmered there and she felt she deserved every inch of his ire... of all of theirs

"Tell me Claire," he whispered, sliding a leg deliberately between hers and using it to hold her up, forcing his black jean clad leg beneath her skirt to brush harshly against her barely covered crotch. "Why is it do you think that you were accepted whilst the rest of your kind were rejected?" he posed it to her rhetorically so she kept her mouth wisely shut. He could hurt her if he chose to, she knew that, he was the only one who could and right now he had every reason in the world to want to make her suffer, why give him another?

"Why were you the angel... and the rest of us the demons?" he shook her violently, closing his vice like grip until her vision began to dance with black spots, her painless lungs starting to struggle.

"The golden child." He hissed the term of endearment he knew she hated the most, because it had been _'their'_ name for her, the specials who hunted her.

It had been a shock, one she was sure she'd never get over when the first violent response came to her little stunt with the Ferris wheel. But the source had been so unexpected that she'd merely stood there, letting it come, letting the flames envelop her attempting to burn her to nothing but ash. In that moment it had all changed, live on camera, with her defending her decision to reveal herself and so all of them to the world to a crowd of bewildered human beings. But nothing could change as quickly as public opinion... the mob mentality. As one 'normal' human beings had turned on the 'specials' deciding they were dangerous and uncontrollable, a bad element who'd turned on the only one of them that had tried to come out and let society know about this danger in their midst's.

The riots... the camps they came up so quickly, the Company's abandoned serum emerging almost from the woodwork to keep them depowered, helpless. But never forgiven, or trusted. They were different, abnormal and dangerous... not in the least bit human. Just like Sylar said, demons.

She'd never really understood why she was exempt from the rest of mankind's rage, every negative comment that arose was squashed by a tide of violent almost fanatical denial; until even the media stopped printing it even in jest. They placed her so high on a pedestal she couldn't even see the ground they'd used to bury the rest of her kind.

Claire had tried of course to change the flow of public opinion, to convince them that others like her weren't all murdering, unstable bullies with more power than sense. But her every word in defence of the people that were still trying to kill her for making the world aware of them in the first place, only made the world hate them that much more for ever trying to hurt someone who was trying to help them. It was a catch-22 and she was trapped, as much in a cage as the rest of her species. The worst of it had come when the embittered 'specials' had tried to hit her with the serum, before unleashing an explosion that had levelled an entire city block... incinerated they said as she emerged from the ashes, reforming blackened and broken, but healing before the eyes of the world. The scientists had told her the serum was ineffective on her because she was so _special_, her ability prevented the drug from altering her DNA, which meant her ability could never be suppressed, just like Sylar's stolen version, because in reality he was just like her, which was why he'd never been caught and why Peter had never been found.

If they had hated her before, the _specials_, then they despised her now, because she was untouchable, unkillable and utterly unable to suffer for any of it... or so they thought, Sylar knew better.

"They used to hate me as much as they hate you now... they think I can save them you know." He whispered, as if telling her some shameful secret. "That I'm the only one that can destroy you, make you suffer the way they have." He chuckled darkly and she closed her eyes, waiting for the blow. It had always amazed her that her little secret, the vulnerability in the back of her head had never gotten out; it seemed that whilst her family might have come to hate her for the world she had created, they couldn't kill her for it.

Lips pressed firmly over hers and she opened her eyes in shock not able to understand his actions as his tongue swept into her mouth, forcing her to taste him.

"Claire." He sighed breaking away from her unresponsive lips and dropping his forehead against hers. "Like I could hurt you." He muttered sighing wearily like he'd give anything for the opposite to be true. "The rest of them, they're shadows Claire... dust, we're eternal." Her eyes widened as he kissed her again, insistent and hard, until she couldn't help put let her lips slide open to his tongue as he explored her mouth, lavishing attention over every inch until she was breathing heavily, feeling somewhat light headed, but that could just have been his continued death grip on her throat.

"Kill me." She whispered against his lips, pressing gentle butterfly kisses there and feeling the effect her body was having on him, as the hard length of him pressed against her stomach. Maybe it was wrong to manipulate him like this she considered briefly, as she let her mouth drop to his neck, nipping and suckling at the slightly salty skin there. But then it had been a long time since she was the innocent little Cheerleader; after 21 assassination attempts, dozens of lovers and hundreds of public appearances later, she was something else entirely now.

"So I can be the monster again?" he laughed throatily, the sound reverberating through her chest. "I'd finally be the hero Claire to a whole world of specials and a monster to the rest of the world." His dark eyebrows rose in amusement, "Is this what it feels like to be you?" Claire pulled away from him as he finally released her from his grasp, seemingly immune to her attempts to manipulate him, despite his body's reaction to her. Staring hatefully she shoved at his chest, surprised when he actually stepped back and moved aside to take up his position on her plush leather sofa once more.

"If you're not here to finally put me out of my misery, why are you here?" she snapped, stalking to the dresser and wrapping the robe around her mostly scantily clad stage outfit, doing her best to ignore the eyes of the reformed serial killer that seemed to follow her, the feral glint lingering in them as he ran his tongue over his lips as if savouring the taste of her left there.

"So a singer?" he ignored her question posing his own rather more mocking one.

Claire rolled her eyes, mildly embarrassed. "Not my idea." She murmured as if that was validation enough for her new found career.

Sylar smirked at her and she felt her stomach clench at the memory of that look and all it brought with it. "Well no, not to be rude, but it was rather too brilliantly manipulative a move for you my dear." Claire glared at him, trying to decide whether to be insulted or vindicated.

"The governments I assume?" his grin widened at the mildly insulted look she'd settled on. "Team Claire at its finest I'll bet." He sunk back into the cushions, raising his arms to lock behind his head and staring now with obvious amusement that barely masked the all too familiar rage she could see hidden there. "Genius really. How to get Claire Bennet out to the people as often and in as many forms as possible... why not make her a pop sensation!" the laughter that rattled out of his chest now was pure. "Your voice, your face, your words and image, out in the public domain twenty four hours a day, beamed and printed right into their homes, offices, cars, out on the street. Nowhere to escape you; ever. And in case that wasn't enough, to satisfy the world's insatiable need to be near you, to see you, be connected to you in some way, they can come and watch you in the flesh in a seemingly endless stream of live performances." He leant forwards dropping his hands and bringing them together to clap slowly and sarcastically. "And the best part... the part that the monster I used to be really admires!" Claire looked away not able to meet his eyes. "The government earns a fortune from all of this, which funds... dun dun dun" he mocked, even as his expression darkened, "the systematic hunting and destruction of your own species."

Claire collapsed back onto her desk, perching on the edge before her legs gave out on her, staring at him open mouthed and wishing once more that this man, this monster sent into this world seemingly only to make her suffer, would simply die.

His barking laughter at her expense drew tears to her eyes and she felt her body's natural ability battle the nausea that threatened whenever she thought about how they had put her to use... how they still were.

"What do you want me to say?" she asked quietly turning her shining eyes on him as he sat lazily on the couch clearly enjoying throwing the horror of what her life had become in her face like this. "There's no apology that could make it go away, nothing that could undo it, or change it. I'm trapped. Just like the rest of you. And if you won't kill me then I'm going to have to simply learn to live with this."

"I think I remember giving you a similar speech not so long ago... as I recall you threw it back in my face." He reminded her deftly of the night he'd emerged beside Peter and expected her to merely accept his reform... how they both had, on nothing more than pretty words and one night of heroics.

"You could always kill yourself." Sylar posed shrewdly, going back to the original conversation and Claire narrowed her eyes at him.

"You know I damn well can't." She hissed. Only he would, no doubt a secret he'd kept from the others only fuelling their belief in her selfishness.

The smirk slid off his face as he got smoothly to his feet, stalking to stand inches in front of her, glaring down... was that pity she saw there? It stirred something unpleasant in her.

"How many times have you tried Claire... really tried to take your own head off hmm? Or to stick something in the back, put a bullet straight through?" Claire flinched and his lips quirked as if she'd answered aloud. "I mean really tried. Not just your little attempts to hurl yourself from great heights or throw yourself in front of moving vehicles?" His hand grasped her cheek and drew one smooth thumb across her slightly parted lips, ignoring her attempts to wrench her skin out of his reach.

"How many?" he pressed, knowing full well the answer.

"I hate you!" she hissed, hating that he could always dredge up the very worst in her for all to see.

"Not your fault." He added quietly, his fingers grasping her chin tilted her head back as he leant forward, staring down at her lips as he traced patterns across her face with his index finger. "Your ability prevents such perverse things as thoughts of suicide." She shuddered at the memory, of the despair it had brought to know that her freak show of a life could deny her even an end. "Did your hands tremble Claire... did your whole body rebel against you when you raised that gun to your head?" Claire closed her eyes and he pressed ghost like kisses to the lids, tracing the path of her silent tears.

"How many times have you tried and failed?" she threw back, not daring to open her eyes.

"Just the once." He admitted, "Right after I buried Peter."

The sob that tore from her throat was guttural and she felt her whole body convulse with the pain of it.

"Shhh." Sylar soothed, placing a hand against her cheek and drawing closer to her body than anyone these days dared. "Poor Claire-bear." He continued softly, "Look what the world does to us, what it makes us into."

"Why are you here?" she asked through tears, barely able to get the words out past the harsh lump in her throat. "To torment me?" she guessed, as he grasped her hands catching them and holding both of her much smaller ones in his own, pressing them to his chest. There was a reason she never let anyone get this close, just in case they reminded her just why she hated herself... hated the whole goddamn world. "Was this Peter's last wish?" she breathed, hating that the man who had once been her hero, her family and who had come to hate her so much. She knew he'd been behind more than one of the more inventive attacks on her life, but she suspected more as a statement than an actual attempt to end her.

"Oh I don't need to do that Claire, I'm sure you torment yourself enough for the both of up just by waking up in the morning to this happy little world you helped build." Sylar snorted at her and dropped her like she was infectious the scornful look on his face holding almost as much disgust as she used to level at him. He couldn't even stand to look at her now it seemed.

"You encouraged it." She hissed, reminding him of the night from the Ferris wheel, 'Brave New World' he'd called it, surprising her forever by being the only one that had supported her decision.

"Yes... but apparently I'm still psychotic, I just hide it better these days, I suppose that should have been a warning to you, having me as the moral compass." Put like that Claire had absolutely no response, she'd never even considered that and it floored her now that he clearly had and had never mentioned it, none of them had.

"How did I become you?" she breathed quietly, ignoring the tremble to her voice and the violent shake to her hands.

"Public opinion." He replied eyeing her shrewdly. "That's all good and evil really is anyway."

"I'm not evil." She replied certain she couldn't be that, the things that had been done in her name perhaps, the things she had caused to pass definitely, but not in herself.

"That's history's place to judge. Besides I wouldn't worry about it Claire, it's not like we ever have to face the music before those pearly gates." There was something close to despair in his tone and she felt the loss of Peter between his sanity and his monster acutely.

"We still have to face the mirror Sylar." She reminded him needlessly.

"And each other." He added coolly, refusing to allow their connection to fade. "But then I guess that's the same thing as a mirror really isn't it." His lips curled cruelly up at her, "I told you we were alike."

Claire refused to accept that so she remained silent, waiting as it stretched between them.

"How did he die?" she asked finally desperation for some contact with the family, the people she'd left behind winning out. It was unlikely he'd answer; he and Peter had always had a... complicated relationship. They loved one another she thought, like brothers, enemies, friends, lovers? She wasn't certain on that last part, but she suspected; they had never spoken about what had happened to them in that time where years had apparently passed trapped inside a nightmare and no one had dared to ask.

"Old age." Sylar replied finally his lips pursed as he watched her intently as she moved to perch on the sofa, leaving him to tower over her instead, claiming the room, as was his tendency. "Cancer." He clarified, "Best I could do for him was null the pain in the end. By the time we'd found out it was too late to have him take your ability..." he trailed off, the unspoken words heavy between them, that Peter wouldn't have taken hers anyway, even if it was Sylar offering.

"He died cursing me actually." Sylar added almost indifferently, but she wasn't fooled, there was raw pain there that was yearning to be unleashed... perhaps that was why he'd come here, to tear into something that not only deserved it, but couldn't die from his rage. "I acquired Hiro's ability some time ago, not long after this all started actually. Peter seemed to think that it was my duty to use it, to go back in time and stop you from taking your one giant leap for 'special' kind. Of course with Hiro's death shortly after I became the only option, I think it was the one argument that never really went away for us, but he never did tell the others that I had that ability. That's something I suppose."

Claire blinked. "If you could undo this... all of this, then why don't you?"

Sylar rolled his eyes, sighing at her as if she was extremely dense, "Because Claire, I'm not God... oh I like to pretend, sometimes I'm certain I'm as close to God as either of us are ever going to get. But in my heart of catholic little school boy hearts, I know I'm not. Time is what it is, we make a choice that choice is forever. Because once you change one thing... you get cocky. You try to change another and another, always convinced that you know best, that what you're doing is the _right_ thing. What's _right_ is letting fate take its course."

"Coward." Claire snarled at him, cutting to the heart of the issue and enjoying the way he flinched as if struck.

"You think so?" he quirked on large dark eyebrow at her; seemingly amused rather than annoyed at her assessment. "I try to be a good man Claire... these days at least. Peter was my rock, he helped me fight the hunger; overcome my demons, for a time. But it's never gone, not really, who I was, that monster, it's always their lurking beneath the surface, just waiting for that moment, that one shining opportunity to take back what it had. To rip the life I've created for myself away, to murder the man Peter helped me to become."

"Time travel was that moment?" she asked curious despite herself.

Sylar smile was terrible in its ferocity. "Just think Claire, the temptation to go back, to change things... and I don't mean that one event that lead us here. Imagine I went back further, stopped myself from ever killing that first victim, or that I went back to that day at Homecoming, showed myself the real Cheerleader. Just imagine what I could have been if I let the monster out again."

Claire lowered her eyes from his, wondering how it was he even resisted, why he bothered.

"I ask myself that sometimes too Claire." He admitted, clearly reading her mind.

"Is that why you're here?" she asked aloud, feeling the spark of understanding. "So that I convince you not to... that this is somehow better?" the hysterical laugh that bubbled out of her chest set his teeth on edge, but she couldn't help herself. "I think you may have come to the wrong place Sylar." She chuckled, collapsing back into the sofa and staring amusedly at him, realising that it was probably the first time she'd genuinely laughed in over two decades.

"By all means, go back to Homecoming, slice open my precious little head, take the brain and leave my body for the crows." She grinned darkly at him, "I'll even pack your bags for you. Give you a send off with pompoms, I'm sure I've got some around here I could dig out."

"Shut up." He snarled, losing his famous eloquence with his anger.

"Better yet. Go back to Kirby Plaza, let Peter blow the entire of New York to Kingdom come, let's trust in Angela and the rest of the company's plan. Lord knows it was years in the making, maybe they had the right idea, understood the best way to introduce us all to the world. Or..." she mused, "Go save Arthur, let him put Nathan in the Presidency, turn the whole world into people like us. Now that... that was a plan; the right way to do this, because they were never going to accept us, not when we were in the minority... not unless their names were Claire-fucking Bennet, as you so gently put it."

Her lips clamped shut at a gesture from him and she felt quite satisfaction in seeing the monster dancing behind his dark eyes... listening.

"You really are a politicians daughter." He hissed, "you can twist anything can't you, get your own way with merely a flash of that bright white smile, a few cutting words. Angela was right about you, you really are a Petrelli... born if not bred."

Her mouth opened and she took in a sharp breath, flexing her neck muscles as she sat upright to watch him more closely. This was probably the longest, most meaningful conversation she'd had in years, most people these days just nodded avidly at whatever she had to say, some Government types would occasionally try to give her a direction or two, always formerly and with the utmost respect of course. But no one actually spoke to her, had a conversation, god knows she couldn't remember the last time someone had actually openly disagreed with her.

"You could still kill me you know." She pressed the issue one last time, sensing it would be her last chance to make her case, now when he was angry enough to entertain his monster, even for the split second it would take. "You want to be the hero so much," she arched one imperious eyebrow at him, sliding to her feet to stand in front of him, reaching out a hand to touch his chest and admiring the smooth tone of the muscles she felt there. "Why don't you save me. I was innocent once, just like you, I didn't have to become the monster. Do us both a favour Sylar, do for me what no one ever did for you, and put me out of my misery."

Sylar's hands rose and captured hers, dragging her closer, until the heat of his stare almost blistered her, the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end as electricity seemed to energise the very air around him. "The funny thing is Claire, without Peter around I just don't feel all that heroic." His eyes narrowed as he kept his gaze fixed entirely on her. "I've always been selfish Claire, I'm not willing to let you go... not yet. I'm going to need someone else to keep me on the straight and narrow, Peter held me there for 25years..." his smile was sad and his eyes hooded, "you've got the responsibility for an eternity." He leant forwards and caught her lips in a chaste kiss that made her stomach sink and her knees weak, he wouldn't kill her, perhaps she didn't deserve an end to her suffering after all.

Pulling away he left her standing mutely, her eyes on her feet, shoulders slumped.

"Look on the bright side Claire." He added his hand on the door knob, as he turned back to glance at her, forcing her against her better judgement to meet his eyes one last time. "You've got a higher body count now than even I managed, you're the perfect sponsor." He gave her that bland smile and tipped his head to her, the whole thing an almost exact replica of the moment he'd last shattered her world and left her blooded and broken on her own coffee table. She felt the same now, exposed, defiled, hopeless and raging as he walked away from the wreckage.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: Revered**

Guilt was something he was acutely familiar with; it had been his constant companion for nearly 50years. It was odd he mused as he watched from within the crowds chanting Claire's name, he'd thought their conversation would change her, and it had, just not in the way he'd predicted. Rather than retreating from this life of excess, this celebrity life she'd unwillingly cultivated as he'd hoped; she'd embraced it, throwing herself headlong into it with abandon, enjoying every moment of life; after all it had cost her everything else, he supposed it was probably the smartest thing to do really.

He'd lied that day of course, it was funny as a supposedly 'good' man he'd found ever increasingly the need to lie... the monster had never lied. Perhaps he should have been honest with her, maybe then there would have been a better outcome for all of this. He'd tried to save her... Peter's dying wish, to 'save her from herself' had rung in his ears for the months it had taken him to grieve for his friend and brother. Peter should have died worrying about him and his monster... not the lost little cheerleader who was slowly unleashing hers. Had his anger caused this? Peter had always known the _right_ thing to do; he'd thought Claire worth saving; for herself and the rest of the world. Bitterness had sent him to her in rage and grief; lifting his head to watch her now across the crowds lingering on the cold dead eyes in her unchanged face, he realised he might well have doomed her that day instead.

A young girl collapsed next to him drawing his attention and was seemingly swept into a sea of feet, wearily he pulled her out and up with a flick of his wrist, sending her crowd surfing instead of letting her get crushed underfoot. He'd never understood the fascination with celebrities, he turned to glance at the screen displaying Claire in technicolor, 3Dimensional, HD quality compared to the small pin prick she seemed to be on the stage what seemed like a mile from where he was packed like a sardine amongst the gyrating bodies. His eyes lingered on her face once more, on that sharp smile and those glistening green eyes that no-longer begged someone to save her... she'd begged him once and he'd denied her. The obsession with Claire he could understand, it had been his own for years, before Peter had temporarily cured him of it, but it never really went away, just lay dormant, waiting, just like the hunger.

The first time his monster had torn free and he'd killed again, he'd tried to get to her, to crawl into her almost palatial home, blood spattered and broken, demanding to know why she hadn't stopped him, taken better hold of his leash, like Peter would have. Only when he got there he found her entertaining, her living room sprawling with young men and women, all of them _specials_, young fickle and utterly corruptible. And oh how she'd corrupted them, he'd watched darkly from the sidelines blood-spattered and disgusted, as she twisted them, moulded and changed the _special _youth's into something of her choosing.

_Her_ idea this time, not the Governments; it made it so much more insidious in its brilliance to think that it came from previous Claire-bear. In the end it had taken her another mere 25years to convert the next generation of specials, to turn them against family and friends, because just like everyone else in the world, they wanted to be close to Claire Bennet, to feel her gaze, her touch, to live on in her memory, forever. A little slice of immortality for them all.

With the youth on her side and with an aging mostly depowered, older and embittered generation of former 'specials'; it became almost a foregone conclusion that she would convert the impressionable young 'specials' into her own personal army. A way of taking back her life from the government's who still attempted to hold onto it with a slowly weakening death grip, until she'd ripped it from them in a gloriously un-bloody battle that had lasted all of 9 minutes... he'd timed it. Sat in the comfort of his own home, on his huge wrap around screen he'd witnessed her ascension to almost supreme power with barely a hair out of place and to the applause of billions.

Claire Bennet... saviour of the 'specials', saviour of the human race, uniting them all under her own oh so shapely stiletto heeled foot, building a new government within the original, that effectively overwrote it; stealing democracy and they'd cheered her for it... Nathan would have been so proud, _was_ actually, buried somewhere in his mind, the old politician was grinning like a Cheshire cat.

Snorting at the memory's he returned his gaze to Claire as she continued her speech, no more songs this time, _pity_, he'd actually quite enjoyed her surprisingly good voice. As she left the stage the surge forward was expected, as was the new defence system in place to protect her needlessly, low level electric grids... and of course her 'specials'.

Getting into her dressing room this time wasn't going to be as simple, undoubtedly she'd be using her own personal teleporter in the form of a rather sweet, barely sixteen year old pretty little thing, imported directly from some Asian backwater village that had fared badly during the war on 'specials' to serve at her side like some sort of hand maiden to a living Goddess.

Claire enjoyed youth, it was something he'd been slow to pick up on at first, but she surrounded herself with the young, who of course had been her ticket to freedom and conquest. Even now though, her ever youthful body, that flawless skin didn't look a day over the barely teens she cavorted with. The pretty Asian girl hadn't stood a chance, it took him mere seconds to snap her neck and disintegrate her body, leaving no evidence of his deceit as he morphed into her shape, just one more death to add to the many taken in Claire's name... and his own he supposed Taking up her position with an adopted expression of keen nervousness, he waited for her lord and mistress to arrive to be whisked away.

"Shiori." Claire's soft deceptive voice filtered to his ears and he let his smile brighten sycophantically at her approach, feeling his heart beat slightly erratically as she drew closer and he realised just how beautiful his little Cheerleader could be when she really applied herself to the task. Claire extended her hand and he took it obligingly, surprised when her fingers curled around his and she drew his now small, slender frame against her suggestively, wrapping him in her arms and pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. "Let's go babydoll." She whispered against his hair, and he finally understood why the little rebellion of 'specials' had been doomed to fail against her... he was the only person left on the planet powerful enough to stop her and he was nothing more than putty in her hands.

Obligingly he teleported them, of course when they materialised it wasn't quite where she'd expected, he savoured the moment as realisation dawned on her features and she slowly and quietly let him slip from her grasp as she stepped away, her heels clicking on the granite surface as she headed towards the only view. Sylar gave her a moment to absorb where they were, hidden within a granite sanctuary carved out of a cliff face, overlooking a vast ocean. Simple by her standards, at least outwardly the trappings of the modern world apparently discarded. He came here to think.

"You've been gone a long time Sylar." Claire spoke finally, not turning to face him, her gaze still held by the view.

"Not gone... just watching." He admitted.

"And killing." She stated just as coolly, as if they were discussing the weather rather than his old profession.

"For a while, from time to time." He shrugged, "I have you to thank for curing me of that though." Sylar slid back into his own shape, feeling the rip and tear of flesh as it sealed over his larger frame, until tonight he hadn't killed another soul, not since he'd left her house that night sickened with himself and what he'd allowed... _or_ forced her to become. "Were you trying to draw me out Claire... become such a monster that I'd have no choice but to put an end to you?"

Claire laughed quietly, her small slight shoulders shaking with it as she cocked her head over her shoulder, eyebrows raised to stare at him. The expression on her face was so alien there that it almost sickened him to see it.

"To be honest Sylar after our last little chat I haven't given you much thought. You made me realise there was little point in fighting what I was... what I'd become, the world I'd help shape. Fate." She spat out, "Wasn't that your excuse?" he stared mutely back at her, captivated by the way the sunlight danced through her golden hair from the still setting sun, smattering it with reds that looked like streaks of blood. "You also pointed out that despite all my apparent power, I was still just a victim of circumstance, a puppet in someone else's show," her grin was every inch as cruel as one of his own used to be. "I think I rectified that oversight... don't you?"

Sylar listened to her speech intently, but focussed only on her initial sentence, the one that had sent his whole body reverberating with the force of her lie. He stalked towards her taking no small amount of pleasure in the way her pulse quickened at his approach and her breath hitched with his proximity as he leered down at her. "I knew you'd missed me." Everything else seemed irrelevant in that moment, just knowing that the 'great' Claire Bennet still thought about him, that his memory haunted her.

Her expression flickered before a smile split her features but failed to light up her eyes like he remembered... not that she'd ever smiled for him like that. "I always hated that ability." She spun giving him her back so that she could face the view again.

The silence stretched, "Magnificent isn't it." He noted, breaking her imposed silence as her eyes danced over the reflecting water, noticing how it seemed to draw light into his dark little stone cavern, sending oddly shimmering shadows over the walls.

"Beautiful." She admitted, surprising him, he'd half expected her to mock his need to connect with the world that wouldn't release him from its embrace.

"You have too much power Claire." he informed her quietly, placing his hands on her shoulders and willing her for once to listen to him.

"I guess you'd know." She replied, not bothering to attempt to shrug away from his touch as he traced down her arms, amazed at how the simplest brush of her skin set his senses alight.

"I know that power like that corrupts Claire, strips you of your humanity... you taught me that." He reminded her of the conversation they'd had once in a closet.

"Are you suggesting I get rid of all my power?" she warned lightly, the sharp tone of her voice revealing more than her mind. Her eyes flicked up to his, catching them and holding them in a piercing gaze, "That advice didn't really work out for you now did it?" she mocked and he bristled slightly at the reminder of his failure to follow through with it.

"Besides." She continued, turning her eyes once more away from him whilst he slid closer to her back, pressing his front against her not caring how it made him look, just needing to feel the warm beat of her heart within such a cold exterior. "I've been a monster for so much longer than you ever were, over 50years now; I doubt there's very little of my humanity left to rediscover."

Sylar felt anger flare at her stubbornness and spun her around violently, determined to reach into her soul and tear the girl he'd known out kicking and screaming. His lips found hers drawn almost like magnetism as her hands clutched at the back of his head, tugging at his hair and drawing him closer, inviting him in for once. His body moulded around her, seemingly sucking her into his embrace and swallowing her whole as he felt every lithe inch of her. Her palm found his crotch and brushed enticingly along it, causing him to bite down viciously against her lips, before he tore her hand away and threw her to the floor.

Laughing lightly she cast a speculative look up at him, her dark smoky eyelashes only enhancing the colour of her eyes and drawing him in, just like every other poor sucker she bat her seductive little eyes at. "Don't you want me?" she taunted quietly, stretching out her body onto her elbows as she leant back practically inviting him in, her thighs parted for him and he felt himself stiffen almost instantly at the notion, as the tight little shimmering dress she wore slid up revealing her complete lack of underwear to his ravenous gaze.

"I've always wanted you Claire." He acknowledged, holding out his hand and slamming her back flat against the ground, forcing her hands taut above her body and locking them in place.

"Do you want to dominate me... is that it Sylar?" she teased, arching her back off the floor and pushing her breasts out until he almost ached to touch them, taste them. "Are you still the all powerful Sylar?" she pressed one last time, her lips twisting the words into something obscene, making his name sound almost like a purr.

"Yes." He rasped; tugging his pants loose with a harsh movement and all but shredding his thin white shirt until he was standing above her naked and staring, utterly lost to his desire for this girl... powerless. He all but dropped to his knees, sliding his body over hers and catching her cheek in his palm. He'd left her too long this time, let her run around unchecked and unopposed; she'd gotten cocky, there was barely a trace of the Cheerleader left in her eyes, to find her, he'd need to look deeper.

Moulding his lips to hers he warred with her tongue, using an ability he often saw very little use in, after all there was no one who's soul he wanted to know as intimately as the woman writhing beneath him. What he found was only a flicker of hope, he'd damaged her, he realised quietly confirming his earlier suspicions; his last scathing comments spoke in anger and grief had been what had tipped her over the precipice. Once he would have revelled in the idea, the notion that it wasn't just him, that even Claire-fucking-Bennet couldn't fight the demons of what they were, the building blocks that had made them so alike, had just taken a little longer to assert themselves in her. But he didn't want that, he wanted her to be Claire again, to be the sweet heroic little cheerleader who'd never have allowed him to even think about touching her like this.

The real Claire couldn't be dead... could she? But as Sylar's hands shredded her poor excuse for a dress and his entire being absorbed the sight of her naked beneath him, he considered that perhaps he was too late this time. For one second there was a flash of disgust laced with a trace of fear, that it was him that was above her, before she squashed it, almost as if squashing the Claire he wanted to find. His anger flared and he gripped her joined hands at the wrist slamming them back against the cold hard granite and palming her breast roughly, stopping her body from arching and tormenting him further. She wasn't wrong; he did want to dominate her, to take her so savagely he'd somehow leave a mark upon her, make her scream and remember who he was... who she was!

His abilities pulled her taut against him, pushing open her thighs to his intense gaze, the moan that tore from her chest as his lips descended over her set his senses ablaze and only furthered his rage... she should have fought this, fought him, Claire would have.

Her hips attempted to buck, greedy for more of his mouth, trying to guide him to her aching, dripping centre, until he shoved her back down forcefully. None of this was going to be on her terms, she had enough of that from the rest of the sycophants who fell at her feet. Her laughter set his nerves on fire as her green eyes danced with amusement at his expense, her lips curving into a sly smirk that he covered quickly with his lips, refusing to see the monstrous expression there.

This Claire didn't want saving... not anymore. Her soul, the very essence of her being lay bare for him as his tongue duelled with hers, skin pressed feverishly against hers. He could have saved her... should have saved her when she'd begged, now there was practically nothing left. This wasn't salvage anymore, nothing so simple, this time her humanity would need rebuilding from scratch.

Or he could kill her.

He bowed his head, burying it in her shoulder as her hands tugged at his erect member, guiding him; one simple thrust and he was lost. Sylar let out a guttural cry of despair, because like this, driving into her hot, tight heat, feeling every nuance of her soul, he couldn't kill her. Claire's legs wrapped around his hips and drew him closer still, her hands caught his face, forcing his eyes to her own as she tore away his resistance. She was the one supposed to be laid bare before him, yet he felt utterly exposed.

"Kill me." Claire rasped, that god awful little smirk carving up her face as she threw her head back, arching beneath him as he drove relentlessly into her eager little body. She knew he wouldn't, knew it like Peter had known he couldn't kill her either... not really.

Did he hate her? He wondered as he grit his teeth, trying to quell his bodies reactions as his thrusts grew intense whilst she keened and pulsed around him, coating him and teasing him with her own orgasm. Roughly he pulled out, refusing to give himself to her like everyone else... refusing to let her play him like this. Eyes wide she stared up at him, confused as she let her eyes drift down to his solid, painfully engorged member. This wasn't about him, it never was.

"I should have saved you when you asked." He admitted, her eyes narrowed and she slid back to her feet, there was nothing of her dress left to pull on and she kicked the scraps away sharply, eyeing him with almost violent dislike... that look he remembered.

"Well fortunately for both of us, I'm not asking anymore. So why don't you go back to whatever the hell you've been doing for the past 25years and let me live my goddamn life the way I choose."

"Watching you become this Claire... I thought it would be easier. But apparently I just don't hate you that much."

"Or too much." Claire hissed back, her picture perfect features twisted into her now almost trademark snarl, it would have been disturbing apart from the post-orgasmic flush that still coloured her face and the bee-stung kissed lips. His still solid member twitched at the thought and ached for the release that he'd so rudely denied it. He wanted her, wanted her so bad he could taste her still and the little bitch damn well knew it.

"I can't let you leave Claire." He informed her coolly, aware that there was definitely more than just a hint of suggestion in those words as he advanced on her. Her smirk up at him without a hint of fear was doing her no favours, she just didn't know how cruel he could be when he set his mind to it. No he couldn't kill her, but he could sure as hell keep her from the world that had corrupted her quite so completely.

The look on his face must have given something away because she took a reflexive step away from him, the barest trace of the fear he remembered so well on her face blossomed there once more.

"You can't stop me. You know as well as I do they'll come for me... entire armies." The shark like grin spread across her face. "Even you can't stop them all. Not anymore, you just don't have that killer instinct. Turns out I was a good sponsor after all... scared you straight didn't I?"

Sylar advanced ignoring her words, after all he'd already come to those conclusions himself and yes he was grateful, a small part of him would be forever grateful that seeing her like this had been the dose of cold reality he'd needed to stop him falling completely back into old habits. But the price... it was too high, he'd fix it, he was good at fixing things, that hadn't changed.

"I'll fix this Claire." He promised and she took another step away from him, panic becoming clear in her features; and here he'd thought she'd turned to stone, unable to feel anything as basic as survival instinct years ago... after all what was the point in it if you couldn't die?

"You arrogant bastard." She hissed, her firsts curling into claws, naked and essentially powerless against him and still he felt oddly threatened by her. "You can't even fix yourself and you sure as hell, of all people, don't have the right to talk to me about being fixed; like your soul isn't every inch as black as your heart." She was backing steadily away from him now; adrenalin fuelling her enough that she was beginning to think she might even have a chance of escaping him... which he supposed she might, although escaping the small speck of island his cave was located in would prove trickier.

"Just so you know Claire." He told her quietly watching fascinated as she backed herself into a granite wall and levelled hateful eyes on him, their shared momentary lapse in mutual loathing that had led to the all too brief tryst he was certain he'd never forget, seemed to press between them still heady in the air as he closed the distance. "I forgive you." Her eyes widened in surprise, horror, rage and a whole host of other emotions, one of which he was certain was relief; freezing like captured moments into her features as the chunk of sharp rock slid into the back of her skull.

The moment stunned him to see her lifeless and silent, to know that he'd caused it, he wasn't sure of the two of them who had been more surprised that he'd actually done it. Catching her dead weight, it was all too easy to scoop her up into his arms and carry her across to the stone slab he'd hollowed out for this purpose; but it was more difficult than he'd imagined to actually place her inside. He'd known he couldn't do it whilst she was awake, he was too much of a coward for that, but even technically 'dead' he could feel the tentative energy, her soul he supposed, lingering, fixed in place forever whilst her body tried to destroy the object hindering it's progress.

It took him too long to gather his own strength and slide her pliant body onto the unforgiving stone, placing her carefully in a position she might well remain in for decades, if all went to plan. Tears slipped down his cheeks unbidden as he pulled his hands away from her, staring at them like they had betrayed him somehow. Was this monstrous?

He grasped the sides of her painstakingly carved stone coffin and bowed his head, this was the solution his warped mind kept presenting to him, his best chance at fixing this. Claire Bennet was broken, he should know after all he'd helped create that final crack, but she'd healed all wrong this time, gotten it twisted somehow. Her mind needed shattering utterly again for it to stand any chance of being made whole again... he'd help, he'd be here to pick up the pieces, he knew her better than she knew herself and always had.

Feeling as though his chest was in a vice, he bent quickly, brushing his hand across her cheek before pressing a chaste kiss against her still warm lips; this wasn't goodbye he promised himself.

Stepping away he closed his eyes and waved his hand, the large granite lid slid across her form, concealing her from view; as the metal bolts slid in place, shattering deep into the stone and locking it down. Not daring to open his eyes and look at what he was doing he turned away, walking steadily towards the cave entrance before he waved his hand and committed one last atrocity against the poor girl trapped within. The sound of the sliver of rock slipping from her skull and hitting the stone surface was impossibly loud to him; as was the shuddering intake of breath he heard her take... then he was gone, flying as fast as his stolen ability would allow him, so as not to hear the next breath, or the next as she awoke and realised what he had done.


End file.
